Nameless Monster
by Annasthacy Chashyme
Summary: When Levi asked that old man for his daughter, he certainly didn't expect this empty-eyed, unreadable wrecked mess of a girl. / Written for the Second RivaMika Week, Day 5 (Child Lock: Beauty and The Grumpy) / Rated for mature content, warnings inside / RnR?


**Day 5: Beauty and the Grumpy **

**Title: Nameless Monster**

**Author: Vianna Orchidia / Annasthacy Chashyme**

**Rating: M**

**Warning: AU, a little OOC, possible misstypo and grammar errors, present tense, a tiny bit smut ahead because that's all I can do.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin and its character, I don't own Beauty and The Beast and its original storyline, I don't even own the song Namae no nai Kaibutsu (lit. Nameless Monster) by EGOIST, and I make no commercial profit from this fanfiction. **[damn yeah i forgot to put the disclaimer in the previous ones ;;;;;]

* * *

This can't be happening.

When Levi asked that old man for his daughter, he certainly didn't expect this empty-eyed, unreadable wrecked mess of a girl. Yes, she's pretty, almost to a fault, with her unique charcoal black hair and porcelain skin—but that's it. She's just another living doll, price made high for her oriental gene in half her blood.

Levi scrutinizes her more for a while. He notices how she lacks facial expression. She doesn't even flinch as he runs his sharp eyes on her body, up and down, undressing her. He can easily picture what's beyond the ruffles and silk and flowers she is decorated with. A lithe body, probably thinner than she looks, clean and ready to be stained.

But when he reaches her eyes, he thinks _maybe not so clean_.

Because a pair of black abyss like that can't possibly stay innocent.

.:.:.

She is not entertaining, he finds out. No knowledge, no passion, no _emotion_. He takes her to his flower garden, and she stands still like a statue perched for aestethical purpose among the roses. He takes her to his giant library just to be disappointed because she can't read well. He gives her pretty clothes and shiny jewellery, and she stares at them as one would a heap of stones.

This girl is boring.

She is silent he almost mistakes her for a mute, until she answers with deep voice, loud and steady, though devoid of any feeling. She doesn't beat around the bush. She always talks with deliberate words to avoid any chance of prolonging the conversation. He asks, she answers, the end.

Sometimes he frustates himself out and ends up ignoring her like she ignores him. But she follows him everywhere like a lovesick puppy—only she isn't lovesick and is a doll rather than a puppy—and that fact touches his heart more than it should. He gets used to her sitting on one of the couches in his study, gazing at nothing, while he works on his papers for most of the day. He pours her tea carefully every afternoon, and sips his as he takes his time studying the girl in front of him. And, he daresay, grows accustomed to her that he knows by heart how her lips curve a fraction everytime he bids her goodnight at her doorstep, or how her forehead creases a fraction everytime he throws a sudden question, or any other microscopic acts she does.

Only her eyes stay empty, like her soul has been left home with her old man while her body is sent here.

.:.:.

The first earnest change he witnesses is when he goes to his sword training, something he has neglected in favor of paperwork (and the girl, he bashfully admits). Her face lights up just slightly when she spots the swords lining up nicely on the storage room's wall in his training ground. He watches her, fascinated, as she admires the good blades and scorns the bad ones. Heck, he is stunned just knowing that she _can_ tell which is sharp, which is easy to lift, which is heavier but deadly, and so on by looks alone.

Scratch that opinion about this girl being boring. She is more interesting than any other girl can be.

Levi offers a duel. She suddenly looks like a ten years old again—practically skipping as she heads for the change room, jumping around picking the sword she likes most, giving him two glittering doe eyes instead of the usual borderless abyss.

When their blades crashes with a loud sound, he finds his heart leaps. Adrenaline rushes through his veins faster than he ever experienced before. He swings his sword carefully, letting some space comes after each clash, because he wants to study his current opponent better.

The doll-like girl moves with practiced ease, guarded tempo, and unrestrained energy. Her shoulder length raven hair is moving freely as well, framing her face when sweat wets them enough. Her grip on the sword hilt is neither too firm nor too slack. Her stance is balanced and graceful.

He smirks when the match ends with her sword on the ground, their breaths heavy, and she sends a wrathful glare.

Beautiful but dangerous. _Fatal femme_.

He licks his lips.

.:.:.

Days and weeks pass by with new changes here and there. He takes her to the training ground much often. He teaches her how to read and she begins to occupy herself with books while sitting in his study. He makes her learn about tea, going as far as forcing her to make some for their afternoon tea. She requests more training suits, which he immediately provides with another set of accessories as bonus.

She makes more face than the empty doll expression—namely anger and indignation, everytime he manages to throw her sword to the side or tackle her to the ground.

One day he notices her staring off, something she has outgrown ever since she finds company in books. He sits down beside her and strokes the crown of her head because he knows what's bothering her. It has been three months. She is worried about the old man.

He cups her cheek gently with his rough hand and leans her body closer to his. Her breath tickles his face for a second, before he presses a demanding kiss on her lips. He has done this several times and her reaction never changes: merely a small shift of her lips to allow his tongue entry. He keeps his eyes open, as does she, and they stare into each other. Somehow this side of her always irritates him, causing him to pull away. Their kisses never last long.

No word is exchanged when he hands her a mirror.

Her eyes follow his retreating back for a second before she returns her attention to the mirror. It is not decorated aside from a pair of white-and-blue wings craved beautifully on the far bottom of the hilt. She sees this symbol quite often, scattered around the mansion, and she guesses it's the crest of his family.

Suddenly mist enshrouds the mirror, blocking any light, and she gasps in horror. But the mist clears up as quickly as it comes, and what's beneath the mist is a picture of her long lost home. The half-oriental girl widens her eye when her father enters the picture, sitting straight on his beloved horse. He looks healthy. A boy with green eyes and brown hair also appears from the house, greeting the old man warmly, before both of them vanish behind the closing door. And then the mist comes again, turning the mirror back into reflective plane.

She does not really understand about the mirror itself, or Levi, but she cradles the mirror against her chest, a chant of _thank you_ leaving her rosy lips multiple times.

.:.:.

Life with the girl is easy. She is mostly quiet, with occasional sparks of emotion in her initially empty features. The first time she actually smiles, albeit small but it reaches her eyes, is when she expressed her gratitude for the magic mirror—he lost control right there and then, pouncing on her with his lips bullying hers, hands roaming at her sides and back, even teasing her breasts once. He gave her her very first love mark on her neck that didn't disappear in three days, which he always looks at smugly.

She is obedient but not submissive. Still follows him everywhere but also starts showing development in her swordsmanship, giving him a harder time fighting her. Still deadpans at his questions but also starts giving valiant remarks and comments. Still opens her eyes when he kisses her but also starts kissing back, as gently or as fiercely as he begins it.

Levi doesn't give a name to their relationship. She can be a wife, a mistress, a courtesan, a friend, a sister, or a doll. It's not like anyone would give their fifty cent on the monstrous lord of the land and his female partner. But she leaves her bedroom and moves to his. She makes herself comfortable around his body heat and his clean scent. She contents herself getting tangled in messy sheets and sweaty bodies grinding against each other.

They rarely talk. They believe actions always speak louder—she lets him undress her, his finger touching and lingering on places they should not. She lets him lead her to the bed and kisses his brows, his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, his _lips_ when her back meets the cool sheet. He lets her undo the cravat around his neck. He lets her yank his hair almost painfully when he bites down on her delicate skin around her neck.

Sometimes he takes his shirt off, sometimes she pulls it open, but they have a silent agreement to leave his pants on. He will then shower kisses along her body before going down on her, leaving the girl writhing under his touches. When he finally enters her, he is never overly gentle, and never ruthless—just shifting from one side to the other. Just enough to bring both of them to complete pleasure.

When they finish their love-making—his name still heavy on her tongue and her name on his—he will kiss her forehead adoringly, like a father to his daughter, and she will shed just one drop of tear because her old man is far away from her, safe with her brunette brother. As slumber then takes over his body, he always quietly wonders at the absurdity: a moment of heated coupling ending with platonic feelings.

But he likes it.

Just a second he flickers his eyes open when he thinks he hears her mutter a quiet _I love you_, but she's asleep.

He always dreams of light and spring and _her_, smiling beautifully at him.

**-fin-**

**A/N:** I know the official RivaMika Week has ended, but I decide to finish all eight prompts (though maybe more leisurely). And I can't believe I actually wrote something close to smut, even though the smut is like one percent from the whole story, sorry. The prompt is Beauty and The Grumpy but it ends up Levi not really grumpy :))

I don't really like this writing style, no dialogue and full narration, because it holds me from giving detailed events, but it really helps when I have like zero idea hahaha.

AND YEAH I PICKED THIS BECAUSE I JUST READ A FRICKIN SHOUJO MANGA ABOUT A MAID AND AN EARL WHICH IS CLICHE BUT I STILL READ IT ANYWAY

Ehem. Well, comments are lovely!


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